


up late

by windshields



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Comfort, Couch Cuddles, Domestic vibes, Fluff, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Self-Insert, a bitch just needs to feel held ngl, its my personal hc that physical touch is ford's love language, late night, real low-key, this is very self-indulgent of me lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windshields/pseuds/windshields
Summary: staying up late one night, you find out that you're not the only night owl in the shack..
Relationships: ford pines x reader, stanford pines x reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 77





	up late

**Author's Note:**

> this is very self-indulgent of me, I want nothing more than to have a movie night at the shack.  
> so its the perfect fic to christen this account with lmao. 
> 
> this is set a year/two after canon, something like that, don't worry about it ;)

You sit on the couch in the darkened living room, the only light admitting from the cheesy 80’s slasher on the tv in front of you. Earlier that summer; you and the twins made the executive decision to move the old, moth-eaten sofa from the outside porch into the living room; it made it easier to include everyone for movie nights. Your legs are folded up underneath you, a quilted blanket draped over them and spills over onto the floor. You scrolled through your phone, not even paying attention to the scantily-clad teenagers getting stabbed on the screen. You sigh, changing position and shifting to prop an elbow against the armrest, only to continue scrolling.

A long-forgotten, empty popcorn bowl sat atop the T-rex skull-turned-coffee table, several emptied and crushed cans of soda laid inside. You look up at the old coo-coo clock on the wall, informing you that you were about to enter the early hours of the morning. You sigh again, realizing that you should probably start getting ready for bed. Even though you don’t have a be into work until Thursday, spending all day with the twins, getting into who knows what kinds of supernatural danger requires a lot of energy. That energy can only be achieved by going to bed. And caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

As you were about to heave yourself off the couch, the kitchen light suddenly flicked on. Your head snaps up immediately in the direction of the dim, golden light, creeping around the corner. You crane your head up and to the side, trying to get a glimpse of who possibly be up this late. Maybe one of the twins getting a glass of water, or could be Stan making a midnight snack. Both of your hypotheses were proven wrong when Ford stumbles into the living room. He looks...rough. His tan coat is nearly falling off his shoulders, you notice several new rips and tears in the fabric. One of which was so big it looked like he was about to lose the left sleeve entirely. The bottoms of his pant legs were soaked and cuffed to keep the damp fabric off of his skin. 

He must have trudged through some pretty serious mud as he left his boots and socks by the door, his bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. Dirt and grime were streaked across his cheeks and forehead, the remnants of raindrops dripped from his gray hair, as well as various leaves and twigs. He looks tired, Heavy-lidded brown eyes drooped from behind his thick, cracked lenses in a way that pleads for rest. Ford shuffles out of the kitchen, letting his coat simply slip off his broad frame and drop to the floor. He made his way over to the edge of the couch and flopped over the armrest, landing face-down into the cushions. You set your phone aside and look down at his mop of gray curls, snickering slightly.

“You okay there, bud?” You asked sympathetically. Ford merely grunted in response.

“Long day?” Another muffled grunt.

“Hey,” You tap his head lightly.

Ford peels his face away from the couch cushion and looks up at you through bleary eyes. 

“lemme just…” You gently reach out and pull the glasses off of his face to prevent them from getting squished again.

“there.” You smile, folding the arms in and setting them on the armrest with your phone.

Ford blinks at you a couple of times, squinting slightly now due to the loss of his glasses, but a lopsided grin quickly spread across his face. You feel your stomach flutter as he smiles at you like that. You shift to move your legs out, extending them forwards so your thighs can spread out a bit more. You pat your thigh as an offer and Ford tilts his head, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“C’mere!” You encouraged, beckoning him closer.

That finally got the circuits to connect in his genius-mind and Ford pulled himself forwards. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he lays his head against your lap, facing the tv screen. You let one of your hands come up to play with the short hairs at the base of his head. You run a hand up through his downy, ashen hair, and smile as you hear Ford hum contently. Your other hand comes to rest on his side, fingers lightly playing with the woolen fabric of his maroon sweater. 

“Thank you.” Ford’s sleepy, muffled voice drifts up over the quiet din of the movie’s end credits. You smile and continue to play with his hair, the exhausted man pulling his arms around you tighter before going limp again, obviously beginning to drift off to sleep. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> if you like what you read, feel free to drop me a comment.
> 
> sorry if it was too short but dw, there plenty more where this came from :)


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